


send your signal home and bring me back to you

by passeridae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Bottom Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, M/M, Nanite Fuckery, Old Men Being Stubborn About Emotions, Possessive Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Top Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, smut in chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passeridae/pseuds/passeridae
Summary: Jack and Gabriel, after the fall. No matter the distance, they can't escape each other. Gabriel's nanites just cement that.Starts immediately post the "Old Soldiers" comic.----It itches. Slight but persistent, like something skittering across his spine under the armour and compression shirt — infeasible, impossible, but the sensation remained. After Gabriel had shot him in Cairo (and god, hadn’t that been a revelation), Ana had looked over the wound with concern, trying to clean away the spatter of blackness like blood over his back to no effect.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57
Collections: Reaper76 Free For All Secret Santa 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deathblossoms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathblossoms/gifts).



> Thank you so much deathblossoms for the _excellent_ prompt, I had so much fun writing it!
> 
> The second chapter of this work is pure smut ;3 It's an optional extra, you don't need to read it for the story to be complete!

It itches. Slight but persistent, like something skittering across his spine under the armour and compression shirt — infeasible, impossible, but the sensation remained. After Gabriel had shot him in Cairo (and god, hadn’t that been a revelation), Ana had looked over the wound with concern, trying to clean away the spatter of blackness like blood over his back to no effect. Saline, iodine, isopropanol, nothing made a difference. Even then it hadn’t hurt, not truly, nothing more than a mild ache better ascribed to a day spent running and falling through a city than whatever Reaper had done to him. Gabriel. Not Reaper. What Gabriel had done to him. And that was the question, wasn’t it, what had he done to him?

The itching doesn’t fade, not really, though there are entire days where he doesn’t think about it, days when he’s following leads or researching, days when he’s walking the streets of Cairo and laughing with Ana about some old joke as they nibble on street food and keep their ears open to the chatter around them. Then there are days where it’s all he can think about, where he wants to tear the skin off his back to make it stop and he has to do something, anything else with his hands until the urge fades. The skin, if it even is skin, over where the wound was is strange to the touch — disconcertingly soft, but grainy when pressed or itched, like silicone over sand, and remains pitch black. It’s unsettlingly stark, especially compared to how pale Jack is. Almost like a brand, or a tattoo, permanent and indelible. He’s stopped looking at himself in the mirror, afraid that the stain will start to spread. If it does, he doesn’t want to know. It’s not like he can do anything anyway.

* * *

To: shrike@tempmail.eg  
From: a.z@msf.org  
Subject: Sample

Whatever you’ve sent me, it’s terrifying. Cultures injected into rodents kill the subject in days; they almost seem to wither from the inside out. It refuses to grow in agar, even impregnated with blood, and seems to have a strong preference for live organisms. The more complex the better. I’d call it an infection, except it doesn’t seem to be biological in nature at all. Thank god it needs to be implanted into the subject’s nervous system to take effect, otherwise it would be the most terrifying bioweapon I’ve seen yet.

I destroyed the rest of the sample you gave me, as well as all the animals used in my experiments, and I implore you to do the same. No matter where the sample is from, it cannot be allowed to spread.

All contents of this email are confidential and intended only for the recipient.  
_Please consider the environment before printing this email._

* * *

They move shortly after their altercation with Reaper in Cairo. Of course they do, their base of operations has been compromised. East, because there have been murmurings of something happening in the Jordanian desert. Ana wants him to see a doctor she knows, trustworthy, she tells him, discreet. Jack thinks of white tables and needles, the harsh chemical smell of disinfectant, and refuses. The SEP was enough doctoring for a lifetime, no more. Gabe and he had never needed them afterwards, and besides, it was hardly a big deal. Whatever Gabe had done, it just itched. And that was likely his body’s healing factor getting rid of whatever it was. Ana was overreacting. 

Ana takes all this with a raised eyebrow and a disappointed expression. “I won’t force you, but I’d like you to consider it carefully,” she tells him before turning towards the kettle. “Tea?” 

Jack lets out a deep breath of relief. Tea meant that the conversation was shelved for the time being. “Please. After that I think I’ll have a shower.”

They both smell like dust and camels, which is absurd because they didn’t even ride with them on the train. They rode with the cattle instead, protected from the worst of the desert’s cold as they rattled across the border. The owner of the hotel thought Ana bedu and sneered, but took their money nevertheless. Jack is pretty sure the owner gave them his worst room, but it’s a room, and it has running water, and he doesn’t have to worry about being crushed by hooves, so he wasn’t going to argue the point. They’d be gone tomorrow.

In the shower, he’s not completely able to scrub the grime from his skin. He grimaces, picking at the greyish lines twining over his hip bones. There are four or five of them, just visible in the dim light, running almost parallel to each other, and he wonders at what could have caused them. They’re not bruises, the SEP would have cleared them up by now, so he must have brushed against something. Perhaps while he was asleep, he never could stay still. Gabriel used to joke that the only way to keep him still was to weigh him down, but that was clearly just a ploy for them to sleep pressed together. Jack winces at the memory and takes a deep breath. Redirects his thoughts. Hopefully the marks weren’t graphite, that could get into pores and stay for weeks.

Jack doesn’t look in the mirror as he dries and dresses. Doesn’t see that those greypale lines creep out from his back, fading in colour as they move further from Gabriel’s mark sitting low on his spine. Doesn’t see how the blackness itself is creeping up and up, eating up the pale skin as it winnows its way through his nervous system. 

He steps out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry, asks Ana to get some stronger soap when she’s next in the souk. Absently itches at his back. It’s becoming more constant, the itch, the area warmer than the surrounding skin. Less pressing, less obvious when it does happen, but with a frequency that probably should alarm him if he thinks about it for long. He doesn’t. 

In the morning, he often finds his hand pressed over the source of his annoyance, black matter caked under his nails from where he’d been worrying at it during the night. He picks the gunk out with a knife the first few times, then gives up. He wears gloves most of the time anyway, it’s not like anybody will see. And besides, he’s got bigger problems than clean nails right now.

* * *

Shrike: He’s refusing to see you again, as expected. Will keep you posted.

Kowalska: If the file you forwarded is accurate, then the infection is incredibly dangerous. He needs to be examined sooner rather than later. Isn’t there something you can do?

Shrike: He won’t go anywhere unless he wants to. He’s always been stubborn to a fault. I’ll do my best to keep us moving toward you and convince him on the way.

Kowalska: Hurry. His danger to others is only increasing.

* * *

Sombra(00:30): So Gabe  
Sombra(00:30): why’ve you been so off recently?  
Sombra(00:31): I mean, you’re still doing your whole ra-ra I’m so scary thing  
Sombra(00:32): but you didn’t snap that goon’s neck when he called you a drama queen  
Sombra(00:32): and face it  
Sombra(00:32): that’s weird for you  
Sombra(00:33): like, really weird.  
Sombra(00:34): and a girl has a right to be worried about her friend, right?  
Sombra(00:34): unless I should be congratulating you instead ;3  
Sombra(00:34): have you finally gotten laid  
Reaper(00:34): GO TO SLEEP SOMBRA.  
Sombra(00:35): I’m taking that as a yes

* * *

Gabriel wakes from yet another dream of Jack pressed close underneath him, flushed a pretty pink as he begged for more. Goddamnit, right before he got to the good bits, too. 

He rolls onto his back with a sigh, then makes a disgruntled noise at how damp his sheets are underneath him. Sticking to his back and thighs with the intensity of a lover. He’s been sweating in his sleep again, far more than usual — would have stained his sheets black with the shed nanites if he hadn’t already given in and bought black sheets. It’s probably related to Jack. It’s always related to Jack, somehow.

He’s been dreaming of him more than usual, recently. Thinking too much about his nanites burying their way under Jack’s skin. Not that he’s complaining about the dreams, they’re _good._ Him and Jack, as they were, hopelessly tied up in each other. Absently palming at his cock, he thinks back, trying to pick which memory to relive. Jack tied up is always a fun start point, or Jack after a fight — already riled up and desperate for Gabriel to use him.

Oh, yes, that one’s good. After a skirmish during the crisis, before they were taken off active duty. The omnics had been relatively few in numbers, but smarter than the previous incarnations, and the fight had been a tense day of cat and mouse in a dead city. They’d won, of course, they always did. The indefatigable strike team, heroes of humanity. 

Jack hadn’t even made it to the dropship before he was in front of Gabriel, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Shifting from foot to foot with restless energy. Pleading and cajoling, doing his best to convince Gabriel to use the premise of a last area sweep to fuck him over a waist height wall. He’d succeeded, and Gabriel had managed to wring three orgasms from Jack’s body before their comms had lit up with voices calling them back.

The look on Jack’s face as he’d come the third time had been almost indistinguishable from one of pain, and the helpless little noises punched out of him had been burned into Gabriel’s head ever since. Gabriel moves his hand faster, thinking of Jack’s eyes, hazy and bright and looking nowhere but him. His hands scrabbling at Gabriel’s waist, trying to press them closer, and closer still. How his voice had broken into something desperate and sharp as he’d begged.

With a low groan, Gabe comes over his hand, then immediately yawns. He wipes his hand on the sheets. They’ll need to be changed anyway. 

He misses Jack, he can admit to himself in these moments, misses his snark, and planning qualities, and how well the two of them have always fit together. In all things. It’s the one thing he still yearns for from their Overwatch days, that closeness. Not having the weight of the world on his shoulders, that’s a definite plus, but no Jack sharply tempers that relief.

Thinking of Overwatch, and the fiery mess that became of it, rapidly kills the remains of his post-orgasm lassitude, and Gabriel gets up with a sigh so he can shower.

* * *

From: :sugarskull:  
To: reaper@talon.org  
Subject: you should see this

taken from a security camera in a secure site in Krakow, at 0030 to 0040 last night. if I didn’t know better, I’d think it was you.

File Attachment: s76-krakow.mp4

* * *

The first thing that Gabriel notices when he starts playing the video file Sombra sent him is that Jack still leaves the same openings in his defense that he did during the crisis. “Idiot,” he murmurs, heartfelt, as Jack ignores the same old hole at his six that Gabriel always filled. It’d been how long now, and he still hadn’t addressed it? Laziness. As the video continues, a humanoid shape looms close behind Jack, right in his blind spot, and Gabriel huffs, waiting for Jack to get tazed or stabbed, or whatever the shape decides to do when— 

Well. When what looks like part of Gabriel’s nanite colony rises out from the back of Jack’s jacket. A tendril of blackness curls up, then shoots towards the shape so fast that the framerate of the camera can’t cope and it glitches into pixels. When it recovers, the humanoid shape is gone. Eaten. There isn’t even a scream. Gabriel’s breath stops in his chest, his brow furrows, he replays the footage. It’s exactly what his nanites do in battle. How did Jack do that? It couldn’t have been an SEP thing, that would have manifested far earlier than now. So when could he have come across...

With a shot of adrenaline, Gabriel remembers Egypt. His buckshot is nanites, of course, but they usually die rapidly once separated from the main colony. Every so often he’d infected unlucky individuals, but it infected them by consuming them entirely within minutes. Not inhabiting them. But Jack — Jack’s the most biologically similar organism to him on earth. They’ve not died, they’ve _colonised_ him. Grown and flourished in the environment offered to them. And what’s more, Jack’s let them do it. 

Gabriel has to be sure. He has to know. He doesn’t usually like to do so, but he opens the interface he has to his nanites and queries them:

> external colony  
external colony status: active  
> external colony state  
external colony state: increasing  
> external colony location  
current location: 50.712270, 20.214386

Poland. The colony existed, and it was in Poland, near where the video has apparently come from. It was Jack. His breathing quickens as he thinks about it. The nanites had made Jack theirs. And by extension his. After all this time, Jack’s still his. He plays the video a third time, watches his nanites cover Jack’s back the way he’s always done. The way he still is, as it were, just physically closer to Jack than he could ever have been as a human.

There’s something that’s so right about the knowledge that Jack’s still his. Jack had always preferred to be someone’s, to be needed, and desired, and directed. The perfect subordinate, and a perfect partner to Gabriel. He’d thought that Jack had gotten over it, over them, when he was made Strike Commander. When they’d drifted away into separate spheres, conversations becoming businesslike and tense. When they’d started sleeping in different rooms. 

Jack letting Gabriel’s nanites colonise him, though, that tells a very different story. It's been six months since Egypt by now, perhaps a little more, plenty of time for Jack to see someone and get them removed or killed. He’s travelling with Ana, if nothing else she’d know who to contact. But he hasn’t. He wanted it. Still wants it. He didn’t even flinch when the nanites did their work.

Gabriel sits in his chair, watching the video play again and again. The 76 on Jack’s back stood out on the grainy footage — Gabriel hadn’t been sure it was more than a signal that Jack was alive, but now, now it reads more like Jack’s been requesting backup all this time. Faintly, he feels guilt that he hasn’t checked in on Jack before now curling in his chest, but he quashes it with the ease of long practice. It’s easy enough to fix, now he knows. If Jack wants him, then there’s no reason to put off them meeting any longer. 

He leaves the video of Jack looping on the screen as he emails Sombra and asks her to set up a rendezvous.

* * *

Anonymous(20:42): hello there tall, bright, and masked  
Anonymous(20:43): oh come on, don’t ignore me, I can see you’re online  
Anonymous(20:50): helloooooooo  
Anonymous(20:55): ugh, you’re just as bad as Smoky  
Anonymous(20:55): look, he wants to meet, so message me back and we can arrange the details  
Anonymous(21:09):you really want to meet with him, promise  
Anonymous(00:32): whatever, your loss

* * *

Jack lays on his cot and tries not to itch. It’s dark, a new moon, and visibility is shit, so he and Ana had agreed not to bother with a watch tonight. They’re in the middle of a forest, anyways, far enough from people that sound alone would wake them if anyone tried to approach. So Jack is trying to sleep.

Trying being the operative word, there. Since Krakow, the itching on his back has been less, overall, but when it comes it’s insistent. Like kids throwing pebbles at a window. Or a cat brushing against his ankles, demanding to be pet. Normally when he has downtime, too, to his enduring frustration. Hard to wind down when all he wants to do is claw at his back. He sighs, heartfelt, and gives in to the urge. It’s not like Ana’s awake to chastise him.

Itching feels so much better than it should, almost sexual, which is a disquieting thought he’s going to pack away and never think of again. It’s calming, at least, his heart rate slowing and muscles relaxing. Before he notices, he’s thinking about the fight in Krakow again. About how he was so sure that there was someone coming up in his six, but trusted Gabe would be there to take care of it for him. After the fact, he wanted to kick himself for falling back into old habits, for not being able to train himself out of that habit. That trust that Gabriel would always be there for him. An avenging angel, as the joke had always gone.

But then there’d been this pulling, almost a sucking sensation along his spine, and he could almost feel something launching itself at the threat. And then a shock of energy as whatever it was had done something to the attacker. Eaten them, perhaps? There hadn’t been a body left afterwards, no real way to tell if it was his imagination or not, but he tried not to delude himself into ignoring what was staring him in the face. He’d never hallucinated an enemy before, not through the crisis when their situational awareness was dialled up to 11, not afterwards when noticing a threat was the difference between an assassination attempt and an assasination. Now it seemed a strange time to start. 

He wants to be disgusted — both by the sensation and the fact he’d apparently inadvertently eaten a human, but. Well. He couldn’t bring himself to be. It had almost felt like Gabe was there protecting him. Like it always had been in the crisis, like it always should have been. Like Gabe had never left him to flounder on his own, buried under the weight of the world. Like Gabe still wanted him. Jack tried not to hope, it never seemed to end well, but there was a little ember inside him, from a lifetime ago, that desperately wanted Gabe to care about him. He knows it’s likely wishful thinking, he knows. Tries to tamp down the hope whenever he can but it's tenacious.

And he’s carrying a piece of Gabe inside him, now. It makes that little flicker of hope so much stronger than it was before. He and Ana have seen photos of the Reaper’s victims, dessicated corpses with faces of horror. Ana is afraid that Jack’s going to end up one of them. But Jack can’t believe that. Gabe clearly knows that Soldier 76 is Jack — Jack would have been disappointed if he didn’t, it was a calling card after all. And knowing 76 was Jack, Jack can’t believe he would have purposely set him up for a slow and painful death. He had a clear shot in Egypt. If he wanted Jack dead then he would be. 

Occam’s Razor — Gabe didn’t want Jack dead, he wanted Jack safe. He’d helped to keep Jack safe.

Jack scratches at his back the way one would pet a cat, feeling comforted, coveted, despite himself, and swears he can almost hear the ghost of a rumbling purr. Eventually, it lulls him to sleep.

* * *

From: shrike@tempmail.eg  
To: l.kowalska@infantjesushospital.gov.pl  
Subject: delay

Fine, I'll sleep dart him and get him to you. But once I'm back. You won't be able to keep him contained otherwise.

_Sent from my Smartphone_  
…

> I cannot impress upon you how vital it is that he comes to me sooner rather than later. His life is at stake.  
>  
>  
> Dr L. Kowalska  
> c/o Infant Jesus Teaching Hospital, Williama Heerleina Lindleya 4, 02-005 Warszawa, Poland  
> Ph: +48-605-5549-80  
> E: l.kowalska@infantjesushospital.gov.pl  
>  
>

>> Something has come up and I will be away for a week, maybe two. I’ve asked again that he sees you. If he does, let me know.  
>> There’s nothing more I can do at this juncture to force him either way.  
>>  
>>  
>> _Sent from my Smartphone_

* * *

American Silverside(00:02): I'm listening.  
Anonymous(00:15): finally, I was wondering if you were dead, old man  
Anonymous(00:15): wouldn't be the first time Smoky's killed someone off accidentally  
Anonymous(00:17): anyway! details. have I got a treat for you


	2. Chapter 2

They meet in the back of a strip club in Samara. Sombra’s choice. She hijacks the system and books them a backroom for the night, far enough from the dance floor that the roaring of the music fades to a dull throb felt through the floor. It’s civilian, she’d told them, come dressed for it. Facial recognition tech is banned in Russia, so they can even come without masks. Jack feels naked. He’s wearing a button up shirt, jeans, fingerless gloves. He considered wearing a beanie or something to cover his head, but the weather outside is warm enough that he can’t bring himself to do it. He’ll just have to avoid touching anybody. 

The bouncer looks over his false ID with a bored eye, and jerks his head to indicate entry. It’s only mid-afternoon, but the place is surprisingly full. Jack does his best to avoid brushing against the crowd as he slips through, straight into the booked room. He’s early, he thinks, but the minifridge is full of beer and he cracks one open as he sits to disguise, and hopefully quash, the shake in his hands. 

This is the tableau that Gabriel walks in on — Jack sprawled across a sofa, two beers in and pleasantly hazy, head tilted back in relaxation. A curl of nanites has made its way across his cheek, and a sliver of another is visible where his shirt has untucked from his pants. Gabriel had been in control, ready to talk to Jack. He had a whole spiel and everything. He’d _rehearsed._ But the clear and visible signs of how his nanites have grown in Jack strike him dumb.

Jack gasps at the sight of him, eyelids fluttering. It’s the first time he’s seen Gabriel’s face since Zurich. His pupils are blown in the low light, only a thin line of cornflower blue remaining. His mouth remains open, tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip. He can't seem to tear his gaze from Gabriel in the doorway. He looks good enough to eat.

Gabriel closes the door behind him and crosses the room in quick strides, refusing to break eye contact. Jack lists towards him as he gets close, a flower turning its gaze to the sun. "Gabriel," he murmurs, low and rough. "It's really…"

Gabriel hums in his chest, close to a purr. "Jack." There is so much emotion in that one word, Jack feels lightheaded with it. Or perhaps that's the beer hitting him. Gabriel reaches out to cup Jack's jaw, pet along his cheek. The touch is electric against his skin and Jack can't help but shiver. It feels so good. "Oh Jack. Don't worry, I'm here now. I'll take care of you."

Tension that he hadn't even been aware he was holding leaves Jack's shoulders at the declaration. He's so tired. So worn. All he's wanted for so long was for somebody to care for him, to lighten the load.

"That's it Jack," Gabriel coos. "This is where you belong, isn't it?" Jack hums, agreeing, leaning more heavily into Gabriel's hand. He's already feeling hazy, drunk on the beer, on Gabriel's touch. 

"Let me see." 

Jack strips without fanfare, fingers clumsy on the buttons of his shirt but becoming more assured as he divests himself of his shirt, his undershirt. His pants. Gabriel's gaze grows more and more ravenous as Jack's skin is revealed. Gabriel doesn't step back to give Jack room, crowds him against the sofa so Jack has to shimmy out of his pants, trying to ignore how clammy his hands are. Gabriel's hand traces along the grey lines over his cheek, down his neck. Jack tips his head back with a thump as Gabriel pets along his clavicle. How long has it been since somebody touched him softly, skin to skin? He can't remember. Gabriel's touch feels heavenly. 

Once he starts touching, he doesn’t seem to be able to stop. He looms over Jack, boxing him in, shifting one knee up on to the seat of the sofa between Jack’s legs to press against his crotch. “Jack,” he whispers again, breath fanning against Jack’s lips. He smells of cordite, clove.

Gabriel kisses him like he owns him.

Jack melts into it, whining low in his throat. Gabriel’s hands run down his sides, over his chest. One curves around his neck to cradle the back of his head, tilts him just the right way for Gabriel to deepen the kiss, pressing into him. Jack opens, finally daring to reach and grab at Gabriel’s shirt. Trying to pull him closer still. Gabriel laughs against his mouth, pulling back to look around the room. Jack takes the opportunity to start pressing kisses along the line of his jaw, down the sweep of his neck. Gabriel’s hand, still cradling the base of his skull, pulls him closer with a low rumble. “Still so needy,” he mutters, hoisting Jack up to rearrange them such that Jack’s bent over the arm of the sofa. 

Jack’s about to lose his mind. “Gabriel, please, I need—” Gabriel shushes him, leans back over to blanket Jack on the sofa, pets at his cock, hard and leaking, then over his perineum, further back. His beard scrapes over the delicate skin of Jack’s neck and he shivers as Gabriel makes an amused sound just under the shell of his ear. 

“Nothing better to do than spend the afternoon in the bathroom while you were waiting for me, hm?”

He’s right, Jack did spend the afternoon preparing for the eventuality of them having sex at this meeting — but he really doesn’t need to sound quite so smug about it. A flush rises in Jack’s cheeks, half embarrassment, half arousal, then spreads down his chest. Gabriel rumbles out a moan, enraptured by how the colour highlights the grey.

“Gabriel, christ, just fuck me already.”

* * *

With a request that pretty, how can Gabriel refuse?

He doesn’t even bother to remove his pants, just unbuttons them and frees his cock, smoothing his hands up Jack’s back one more time, relishing in the _pleasurewarmyes_ feedback from the nanites colonising Jack, before he grips tight at Jack’s hips and presses in. 

Jack whines underneath him, the sound almost seeming to force its way up his throat. His fingers dig into the cushions of the sofa, his back arches so prettily to try and get closer. He’s panting, fast and hard. Gabriel smooths his thumbs up along Jack’s iliac crest, brushes against the dense nanite swarm, where his buckshot had hit so long ago. 

Jack jerks like he’s been electrocuted, tightening around Gabriel with a choked off sound. He’s begging, senseless, meaningless words and pleas tumbling from his mouth. The nanites making up the end of Gabriel’s fingers start to dissolve, swirling into the black patch at the base of Jack’s spine. It feels… good. Warm, and enticing, the nanite colonies merging, passing pleasure back and forth. 

Gabriel releases one hand, then sinks it into Jack’s back up to the wrist. Jack bites at the upholstery, and makes a soundless cry, shivering convulsively. Gabriel can’t stop himself from gasping, choking at how _good_ it feels. How right. The two of them sunk together like this. 

He can feel the knobs of Jack’s spine, feel every cell inside him where the nanites are buried. Twined around every organ, threaded through every muscle. He can see, too, the grey lines twisted over Jack’s skin darkening as his nanites join Jack’s colony, hooking themselves deeper inside. Deep enough that they can never leave, will never leave. 

His orgasm takes him by surprise, curling behind the overwhelming pleasure his nanites are shooting through him until it peaks, blinding him for a moment as his muscles jump and shiver with the force of it. He presses soft, brushing kisses across Jack’s back as he comes down, giving himself time to collect his thoughts from where his orgasm had scattered them. 

Soon enough, though, Jack starts to get restless with his stillness, shifting his hips with pleading little sounds. 

Gabriel pulls out, wincing at the chill, tugs at Jack’s hip to flip him onto his back. The first thing Gabriel notices is the dark film over Jack’s eyes as his nanites integrate with Jack’s colony, winnowing their way into Jack’s secretions as well as his cells. He gets his hand around Jack’s cock, slowly jerking him off as he leans over to kiss at Jack’s jaw.

Jack’s legs tighten around Gabriel’s thighs, his chest comes up to press them skin to skin. He shivers so prettily in Gabriel’s arms. Gabriel sucks a deep violet bruise into Jack’s neck, murmurs hot against the damp skin. “You were so well prepared for me, I slid in like a dream. Have you been having fun with other people while I’ve been away?” He bites, ever so soft, at the hinge of Jack’s jaw to drive his point home.

Jack’s always gotten off on Gabriel insinuating he’s sleeping around, and that doesn’t seem to have changed in the time they’ve been apart. He can feel Jack’s cock jump in his hand, feel how he squirms. He shakes his head, “no, Gabe, only you. I— please, fuck. Nobody else, they’re not—”

Jack grabs at his shoulders, his chest, tugging him close. Gabriel can’t help but tighten his grip around Jack’s cock, speed up just a little. Possessively pleased that Jack hasn’t had anyone else since him, even though he would understand if he had. 

Soon enough, Jack shudders out his orgasm. Gabriel sucks one final mark into Jack’s throat for good measure, then sits back on his heels to survey his work. Jack’s a mess — his semen a nanite-infused pale grey across his abdomen, his neck and jaw covered in bruises and red from the scrape of Gabriel’s beard. Always his most beautiful, like this.

* * *

Sombra(00:22): I can’t believe you didn’t even bother to short the cameras before fucking him  
Sombra(00:22): did you just assume I would do it for you  
Sombra(00:23): did the sight of your beefcake wipe all thought from your head  
Sombra(00:25): idk, maybe you’re an exhibitionist  
Reaper(00:29): No that’s Jack. I just thought you’d appreciate the show, after all the work you put in to make it happen.  
Sombra(00:30): WHAT


End file.
